


All Within My Hands

by Dulcinea



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, M/M, Tragedy, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcinea/pseuds/Dulcinea
Summary: They were never meant to be apart. Once fused, they were no longer two, but one entity. One soul. A being of infinite strength and power. The strongest Saiyans to ever live, together, forever.That is—until it was stripped away.A what-if on Goku Black.
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 74





	All Within My Hands

They were never meant to be apart. Once fused, they were no longer two, but one entity. One soul. A being of infinite strength and power. The strongest Saiyans to ever live, together, forever. 

Defeating Buu proved easier to deal with than the aftermath of their fusion. Chichi cried, a lot. Bulma, ever the scientist, tried to solve the problem to the best of her ability. But there was nothing they or anyone could do. Supreme Kai was right. It was permanent. They were Vegito, for the rest of time. 

Until they arrived. 

“Have you heard of the Super Saiyan God?”

The God of Destruction. The Angel. 

“I want a Super Saiyan God, right now!”

Petulant. Intimidating. 

The Goku in him was confused. The Vegeta in him was _petrified_. 

“Call upon the Dragon so I can finally fight this God!”

Shenlong explained it well enough. Five righteous Saiyans, infusing their powers into one, calling upon the Saiyan God powers. Except there was one problem—there were only four, including Videl’s unborn child. 

The Angel’s devilish smile. “Oh, that’s easily fixed, m’lord.” How he pointed that damned staff right into Vegito’s face. The glow, that look—

One became two again. 

What never should’ve happened. What never should be. 

Goku trembled everywhere. Vegeta too. Like newborns being pulled into a cold, bright room, scared, unsure, afraid. It had been so long. Too long. Around them, their families gasped. Their spouses cheered for joy. But they didn’t matter. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t. This ache. This hurt! The celebrations turned into questions and concerned murmurs, but Vegeta and Goku couldn’t register them at all, couldn’t feel their touches, couldn’t really hear their voices. All that registered was each other. All they could hear, they could feel what the other felt, what the other thought. 

_Bring it back. Go back. Make it how we were._

_I need him. I need to be part of him._

_We need to be whole._

The Angel, Whis, pulled back his staff. “There, Lord Beerus. Now it’s five.”

“Splendid.” The God of Destruction grinned from ear-to-ear. “Perform the ceremony, Saiyans.”

_No_ , they cried. _No. Bring us back. Bring me back to him._

Whis frowned. “Please do as my master wishes. I can easily bring you two back together later.”

The promise was enough. It still felt weird, walking around as a separate being again, yet still absolutely connected to the other. Vegeta, Goku, they stood side by side, taking each other’s hand, and it was only then that the shivers stopped. Only then that things began to feel right. 

A discussion took place. Everyone chose Goku. In their minds, both Vegeta and Goku screamed as one, _Not Goku. Not Vegeta. Vegito. We are Vegito._ But they wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t get it. 

So the ritual began. They all powered up their ki, shared it all with Goku. Of it all, only Vegeta’s felt normal seeping into his body again. Only Goku’s ki melding with Vegeta’s ki felt right. 

Then, the ritual stopped. Everyone ceased powering up. Nothing happened. There was no change. No Super Saiyan God appeared. 

Beerus growled. “Why did it fail, Whis?!”

“Hm.” Whis’s eyes narrowed. Looked at the group of Saiyans and Videl in the circle. Scanned them all. “Everyone has a righteous heart, as the ritual commands…” Those eyes locked onto Goku’s—onto Vegeta’s beside him—and they widened. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Beerus stepped closer to him. “What do you see?”

“It’s them.” Goku’s heart rate spiked the same time as Vegeta’s. “I can see it now. Clearly, they were in that fusion for so long that they no longer register as two separate beings, but as one.”

The God glared at them both. Goku’s breath picked up as Vegeta’s did. They squeezed their clasped hands tighter at the same time.

Beerus’s gaze soon focused only on Vegeta. “Disappointing.” 

He lifted one of his clawed paws, palm forward, into Vegeta’s face.

“Only fitting I finish the job Frieza started ages ago.”

Goku heard Vegeta’s words in his head, before his voice and his mouth could vocalize them. 

_Please no—_

The universe stopped when Beerus whispered one simple word. 

“ _Hakai_.”

Slow motion.

Vegeta disappeared into particles of being. Feet. Legs. Hips. Torso. Arms. Shoulders.

Those eyes turned from Beerus to him.

Those lips formed one word. His name. His Saiyan name.

_‘Kakarot—’_

He felt what Vegeta felt. He felt it all. The pain. The fear. The literal _disintegration_ of his very existence, falling away into nothingness, into the never-existed and never-be, and his screams—Vegeta’s screams in his mind, his terror-filled, gut-wrenching, bloody screams—crying for him, crying for help, crying to stop this, crying his sorries, crying out _I LOVE YOU—_

The last to go were those eyes. 

Nothing left behind. Not a piece of fabric or a hair or anything.

Like he never was. 

Like Vegeta never existed.

Goku fell to his knees. 

Alone. 

He shook everywhere. 

Darkness. 

Voices around him.

_An abyss of nothingness._

Never should’ve happened. Never should’ve been. But it happened. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and now—now Vegeta was—was—

Goku _screamed._

***

No one heard Vegeta’s final screams of terror but Goku. 

No one heard Vegeta’s final cry and declaration but Goku. 

No one heard it. 

But the gods heard his. The whole universe heard his. 

There were other screams too. Screams from the people around him. Screams from his family. Screams from his friends. 

Screams from the god that caused this all to happen, the Supreme Kai. Kibito Kai. Screams and pleads and _NO GOKU STOP—_

One blow was all it took. 

He didn’t feel any better once it was done. 

His body thrummed with power not of his own. An aura surrounded him—a light pink—and he laughed as the blood of the dead kai poured down his right hand. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until he collapsed to his knees and sobbed. Crying. Wailing out his pain. Releasing it out into the other world. 

But it didn’t help. Nothing helped fill the abyss inside. 

The emptiness left by Vegeta. His Vegeta. 

His other half. The other part of his soul. 

Gone, forever. Gone for good. 

He’d never see him again. He’d never get him back. He couldn’t feel him in his mind anymore. He couldn’t feel his soul anymore. Like he never was. 

There was nothing he could do. Nothing could bring him back. Nothing could bring back Vegito. Nothing could make this right again. 

Vegeta cried for him. Vegeta pleaded for him.

The one time he needed to be a savior and he failed. He failed his Vegeta. The hero failed when it actually mattered. 

No one would understand this pain. No one could. To know what it felt like, to know what infinite power, endless strength, pure _love_ —only for it to disintegrate—only to feel it dematerialize piece by piece, fragment by fragment until nothing was left—pulverized and blown away like Vegeta was simple _dust—_

Goku clenched his fists, nails digging into the palms. 

There had to be a way. Vegeta couldn’t be gone forever.

He had to come back. 

He had to.

***

No one gave him the answer he was looking for. Shenlong said he couldn’t. Porunga said he couldn’t. All of the Kais said it couldn’t be done—and all repeated that after he threatened each and every one of them. It was impossible to bring him back. 

He didn’t exist anymore. He was gone for good. 

Vegeta was never coming back. 

But he had to come back. They always came back. Death wasn’t an end. His soul had to be somewhere. Even though his mind told him otherwise. Even though that abyss, the void he felt inside himself, told him otherwise. 

Goku searched everywhere. Time meant nothing to him. His family, his friends—none of them mattered. None of them understood. How could they? How could any of them understand? 

No one had the answer he needed. Not even that Angel, Whis, who was apparently very cross with him since by killing Kibito Kai, he killed the God of Destruction too. The two had a link and if one went, so did the other. Goku didn’t care. The God deserved it, as did Kibito Kai, and he told Whis that without a shred of remorse.

“You know,” Whis said, looking him up and down with that ugly smile on his face, “you would be a fine candidate to take Lord Beerus’s place.”

“Not interested.”

“Oh? But you have the skill for it, Son Goku. Dare I say, the _drive_ for it.”

“I don’t give a shit. If you won’t help me, I’m leaving.”

“But you have searched every aspect of the cosmos and not found the answer you need.”

Goku growled. “He can’t be gone.”

“He is, I’m afraid.” Whis released a dramatic sigh. “A pity. If you had not lost your mind and killed Supreme Kai, I could’ve reversed time and brought him back.”

“ _What?_ ”

Whis nodded, tapping the ends of his staff to the ground. “I am an Angel, after all. It would’ve only been three minutes, but still, that would’ve been enough to bring Prince Vegeta back. Alas, that time has passed, and there’s no way to return him.” Whis glared at him—with that damned ugly smile. “If only you were a god.”

Goku froze.

The taunt in that voice. The knowledge there. 

The Angel knew. This Angel knew what to do. 

He _did_ have the answer. 

Slowly, Goku said, “But I could be. Couldn’t I?”

Whis chuckled in a way that made Goku’s stomach churn. 

*** 

It was surprisingly easy to destroy. Maybe it was the Saiyan in him. Maybe it was the fact that he was still hurting, still grieving the loss of his own self. He never dreamed anymore. He only had nightmares—all on Vegeta. All about that day. 

He fulfilled what he was supposed to do since he came to Earth all those years ago. Destroy it. And he did. As simple and as easy as that Beerus did, to his Vegeta. He felt no joy, no relief when it dissipated into thin air. Because the Earth didn’t matter. His family, his friends—none of them mattered. They couldn’t understand anyway. They wouldn’t have been able to, ever. 

Time passed. He learned. He grew. He trained with Whis, trained every single day of his existence, because it didn’t feel like a life anymore. This pink aura didn’t leave him whenever he transformed. Whis said it was like the Super Saiyan God form, but different. Not right. Like something was missing. He was powerful, yes, and he was rapidly close to discovering Ultra Instinct and possibly more, which seemed to thrill Whis, but Goku didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. 

Whis might’ve not understood the transformation’s weirdness, but Goku did. 

Life went on. He trained. He performed his job. He thought of Vegeta, the entire time. Every planet decimated. Every galaxy wiped away from existence. 

Every time, he thought of Vegeta’s final cries.

Every time, he felt Vegeta’s last, lingering hope, for him. That he’d save him. That he’d stop this. 

Every time, Goku shed tears.

Nothing could stop this pain.

Nothing.

***

Eventually, he stopped training. He stopped destroying. Whis told him, “It’s your job,” but it wasn’t. This wasn’t why he said yes. None of this was why he said yes. 

Aimless. Useless. 

The pain never stopped. The ache, the nightmares, the anguish, Vegeta’s screams, the unbearable, undesirable, unnamed feeling—of Vegeta vanishing, Vegeta disintegrating, Vegeta being wiped from all of existence—Vegeta’s hope, Vegeta’s plea, Vegeta’s cry for him— 

He couldn’t eat much anymore, or at all. Couldn’t really sleep anymore without waking up screaming, reaching for Vegeta, trying to stop him from leaving him, trying to bring him back, trying to save him. 

Whis said ‘if only you were a god.’ 

Goku was one, and it didn’t help. 

Nothing worked. Nothing helped. 

Nothing would ever bring his Vegeta back. 

He stared at his reflection in the pond of yet another planet he had to destroy and didn’t want to. Stared and _stared_ at the Potara earring he still refused to remove to this day. The last remnant of what he was. The last piece of Vegeta he had, when they were that perfect being. When they were Vegito and everything was right in the world. 

When he was finally in love. When he actually knew what love really meant. 

It was gone. 

Vegeta was… gone. 

The earring in his reflection. The pink aura of the false Super Saiyan God around his body. This useless power. This useless strength. 

He would never be whole again. 

Goku twisted his hands into tight fists. His nails dug so hard into his palms, trickles of blood spilled over his knuckles, down to the grass below. Red drops hit the water, rippling his reflection. Red dots that floated and faded away, like they were never there. 

Just like Vegeta. 

Just like his other half. 

Goku’s pink aura brightened, the flames around him reaching higher into the sky, growing bigger around him. Surrounding the area. Engulfing it. 

The planet exploded with a flick of his wrist. Whis stood beside him with that stupid, ugly smirk, pieces of floating rock and dirt zooming past them. 

Under his breath, Goku muttered, “I quit.” 

“Do you now?”

“You said ‘if only I was a god.’ I am one.”

“Indeed you are. A splendid God of Destruction, I must say.”

“But I don’t need to destroy.” Goku’s entire body thrummed from head to toe. “I need to create. I need to bring _him_ back. I can’t rest, I can’t think, I can’t do anything until—”

“He is gone, Son Goku.”

Goku snapped his head to Whis’s direction. “You promised he wasn’t.”

“I promised nothing. Only offered you a position to become a god, nothing more.”

“Then why give me this false hope?!” His ki flared to a level he didn’t know—a level he could barely control. “Why did you say these things to me to begin with?”

Whis’s smile transformed into a grim, thin line. His jaw set. His eyes took on a hard edge. His whole demeanor changed from being ethereal to downright murderous. “Punishment. For taking away my dear Beerus before his time.”

Goku stared him down. He could feel the energy coming off of Whis, an energy that his own didn’t match and probably wouldn’t ever be able to match. 

The pink aura around him dissipated with a soft _whoosh_. He said, “I see.”

“You must endure the pain I feel, every day, without my Beerus around.”

“You’ve accomplished that, Angel.”

“Hm.” Whis smirked. “I did, didn’t I?” He rose his staff into the air, glowing a soft white light. “Now. Back to work, Saiyan.”

In a flash, they were gone, onwards to the next planet. 

*** 

Destroying meant nothing. Existence meant nothing. He ate to live. Didn’t bother sleeping much anymore. 

The void consumed him. The abyss swallowed up whatever piece of his old self remained. 

He insisted on a new clothes. The God of Destruction outfit didn’t suit him, and neither did his old gi. Whis conjured him a new outfit, all in black, with a grey sash. It fit him. Fit the black abyss he felt ever growing in his mind and his heart. The void that would never be filled again. 

A new name now, to match his new clothes. When Whis started to form the letter “K” around his lips, he snapped, “ _Not_ that one.” 

So Whis chose a name for him. A name in the God’s language. 

Salmu. 

Black. 

It fit perfectly. Sounded just right when Whis screamed it on top of his lungs, the moment he realized Black fatally killed him. He hadn’t expected it. Had his defenses down, for once in his lifetime. A mistake Black was waiting for, this entire time. 

Of course, it didn’t make him feel better. Looking at Whis’s dead form. Looking at the darkness around him. Nothing did. He didn’t care about Whis. Didn’t care about these gods. This whole universe. 

Nothing would stop this pain. Nothing would make the void disappear. 

Nothing would bring his Vegeta back. 

Black sobbed, collapsing onto the ground. 

Because he failed him. Because he wasn’t strong enough. Because he reacted and didn’t think—but he _couldn’t_ think, not _then_ , not with the pain he felt, not with Vegeta’s feelings, emotions, thoughts, his _screams_ echoing in his mind. The screams that haunted him still. 

He wasn’t enough of a God. He wasn’t…

Black’s tears stopped.

But.

But he could be. 

_He could be._

Black stared at the empty void, the nothingness, the blackness—the abyss that once consumed and ate him alive like a black hole, now embraced him in a way he hadn’t felt in so long. Like Vegito did. 

Almost whole. Almost complete. 

Black’s lips curled into a smile—a wicked, sinister smile. 

They would learn. They would understand his pain. They would know what it was like to have everything you loved, everything that made you who you were, everything that embodied and engulfed your very soul, the essence of your being, only to be raped away from you in front of your very eyes—they would know.

They would _all_ know.

*** 

Fate must’ve been on his side, because as Black enacted his plan out, he found an unlikely ally in an apprentice God named Zamasu. He believed all mortals were a sin and that the gods were meant to rule. Black didn’t care about this zealot’s grand ideas and philosophy. He did care about the Time Rings however. 

They zipped around from universe to universe, timeline to timeline, destroying, conquering, killing. Black felt nothing as he spilled blood on every Earth, every timeline. 

Zamasu spoke of mortals and sins and repenting. Black didn’t care. Nothing mattered. He needed to be stronger. He needed to harness the power of the gods better. 

He needed to destroy everything, so he could create everything again. So he could be whole again—with his Vegeta.

Fate worked with him once more, when they stumbled across a timeline Black never thought he’d find. One he hated, immensely, because it was from this timeline that everything changed for his own. 

It was easy, finding Trunks. It would’ve been easy to kill him too, especially since the boy thought he was his old self. But those eyes. That look, when Trunks figured out quick—just like his own father would—that this wasn’t the same Goku at all. 

He looked just like Vegeta then, and Black didn’t have the heart to kill him. Not yet. 

Torturing him proved fruitful and almost fulfilling in a way killing didn’t. He still killed—Zamasu was thrilled with it—but it was all to destroy Trunks’s soul and spirit, little by little. To punish the boy of the future. To make him pay for saving him all those years ago. 

If he had died from the heart virus—if he had never taken the medication—he never would’ve known what real peace felt like. He never would’ve known what true love was. What it meant to be whole and complete. 

He never would’ve become Vegito later. 

He never would’ve lost Vegeta. 

He never would’ve transformed from Goku to Black. 

So he took pleasure making Trunks’s life a living hell. Besides, it was only a matter of time before he went running to daddy—and the thought of seeing Vegeta again, any Vegeta, spurned him on to kill, to destroy, to fight. 

This time, Black wouldn’t fail Vegeta. 

***

Vegeta was beautiful. As beautiful as the day they were forced apart forever. He looked exactly like he did then, and Black resisted the urge to embrace him, to hold him close, to immediately seek out a Potara earring and pierce it into Vegeta’s earlobe and become one again. 

He resisted, because he could see, clearly, this wasn’t his Vegeta. His Vegeta knew his pain. His Vegeta knew the abyss. Even though his Vegeta didn’t last very long in the real world post-separation, Black could feel it, hear it, sense it in his mind and in his heart. Vegeta ached to be back with him like he did, but Vegeta never got the chance. 

This Vegeta—he would never understand. Just like the others. Just like everyone else in this rotten universe. 

Black ignored the part of himself that screamed when he fought Vegeta in combat. He ignored every cry, every wail, every tear that threatened to spill when he punched, kicked, slapped, pummeled Vegeta. 

_It’s not him_ , he repeated in his mind, _it’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not my Vegeta, it’s not our Vegeta, he’s gone, dammit, he’s gone and we will get him back, I will get him back by destroying everything, everyone, and creating it again, I will create it again, I WILL BE THE GOD OF A NEW UNIVERSE—_

Vegeta screamed. 

Black paused mid-attack—and his jaw fell wide open. 

Blue. Vegeta was blue, from head to toe. Like a God in the flesh. A true Saiyan God. 

_Beautiful_.

He took Vegeta’s kick to the face. Took every punch. Every bruise and cut and ounce of hurt. Because he was now in the presence of a God, a beautiful blue God, and he wanted it. He needed it. He needed this Vegeta for himself. 

But Trunks interfered. Goku interfered. He fought with all of his strength, all of his power, but it wasn’t enough. He was no Saiyan God. He was a false one, compared to Vegeta and his counterpart. 

Staring at the two of them, side by side—the smirk on Vegeta’s face, the smile on Goku’s—how they both glowed that beautiful blue—

The love between them. So obvious. A love that was theirs alone.

A love he’d never have again. 

His Vegeta’s screams ricocheted in his mind like gunshots. 

Those final words, wounding him forever. 

_I LOVE YOU—_

Black _howled_. 

The hole in his soul was almost filled when he fused with Zamasu. Almost, because while it felt nice, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t his Vegeta, and his damned body knew it, because it transformed into dripped purple skin, warts and welts and oozing pus seeping out of cuts and scrapes, littered throughout his body. 

But it didn’t matter. He had the power to defeat them now. Enough strength to kill them and then move on. He had a plan. He had to rearrange the cosmos. Destroy every universe until there was none. Until he was the only God left. One who could destroy. One who could create. One who was powerful enough to bring his Vegeta back and make everything right again. 

Their fight was _glorious_. The Saiyan in him screeched in happiness as Black fought Vegeta, Goku and Trunks. He cackled on top of his lungs, his voice now a mesh of Zamasu and himself, and he couldn’t stop laughing. This was perfect. Real. Like he was back on Earth, sparring with Vegeta again. Like nothing before had ever happened. 

Zamasu tried fighting his mind, tried to be more in control, but Black had the upper hand. He had the experience of fusion compared to this puny god, and he controlled the body, the movements, the thoughts and the feelings. He would kill them, yes. But he would have his fun first. He’d enjoy his fantasy for now. 

His body slowly deteriorated over the course of the fight. Even though he had all of this power, all of this strength, his body was rejecting the fusion, but it didn’t matter to Black. Let it fall apart. Let it break down, piece by piece, until he was nothing but a lump of flesh. 

A distraction from Trunks proved to be his ultimate downfall. Behind him, he felt—he heard that familiar flash of light—the merging of two souls becoming one, and his tears fell, the tears he held back for so long—probably since that fateful day—finally rolled down his disfigured face freely. 

He whispered aloud in reverence, “Vegito…”

All in blue. A Super Saiyan God. Staring right at him, a perfect mix of Goku and Vegeta. A product of desperation that transformed into love after years together. 

What should’ve been. What never should’ve been taken apart. 

Vegito shouted on top of their lungs, “Your time is over, Black!”

He stared right into Vegito’s beautiful eyes. 

His lips curled into a small, sad smile. “Yeah.” He lifted one hand, turning it into a pink energy blade. “You’re right.”

Compared to the fight before, this one was weak. Pitiful. He barely lasted a minute against them, and it didn’t matter. He didn’t care that Zamasu was screaming at him. Didn’t care that he couldn’t breathe right anymore. Didn’t care that his whole body turned cold and that his vision blurred. 

The blue ki blade from Vegito’s hand felt just right, nestled deep into his heart. 

Around Black’s body, the warped, disfigured fusion melted away, Zamasu’s spirit leaving him. His aura was pink again. The false Saiyan God form, impaled by the blade from a real Saiyan God. 

Black stared right at Vegito. Right through him—and he smiled, tears falling in copious amounts down his trembling face. 

He could see Vegeta through Goku’s features. His eyes. The curve of his chin. The sharp jawline. 

His Vegeta, through Vegito. 

Black reached his shaking hand up to that face. His fingertips ran down that strong cheekbone, traced the jawline, right to Vegito’s bottom lip. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, “my prince.”

Vegito’s sharp, soft gasp sounded like angel’s wings. 

With the last of his strength, Goku closed his eyes, reached up and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Vegito’s lips. 

One last thought passed through his mind as he took his last breath. 

_Thank you._

Goku collapsed onto the ground, at Vegito’s feet, his lips curled up in a smile that spoke only of peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely write sad stories, but I busted this outline out in Discord chat in the middle of work aaaaaaand had to write it. Ugh. :( I’m sorry, lol. I hope this was ok.


End file.
